A little preface to today’s entry. Readers take note: you might only want to read this if a) you never ever miss one of my entries or b) you are totally into Radiohead or at least like them somewhat. The only person I know for sure reads every entry AND loves Radiohead is my brother Jay, so JAY – THIS IS FOR YOU.

Before I get into the total and complete awesomeness of last night’s show please have a look at my new favorite song. This is not from the shows I’ve seen but it is from this tour and I am TOTALLY OBSESSED WITH DOWN IS THE NEW UP.

My god. It has it all. It is funky. Thom’s vocals are fantastic. Jonny does that crunchy thing with his guitar that I love. And that plaintive wailing sound that Ed does on his guitar… it kills me. And the DRUMMING. I have seen them play this live twice in the past two nights and it is so fantastic live. Wow.

That clip ends before the song does but you can listen (and try to watch) the whole thing here. It is worth it to hear Ed’s guitar weirdness at the end and watch Jonny on both guitar and drums.

As for Monday. In retrospect I wonder, if all those loud filler fans were bugging me so much, why didn’t I move? Ah, I tell myself, because you were on the rail and that is a pretty hard thing to give up. It’s sad though, some of those girls that got crushed in the front and had to be pulled out by security post on some of the message boards I read. There are accounts of fingernails in flesh and kicks in the legs… all to get to the front. And those girls were the ones waiting in line for twelve hours to get on the rail. I should consider myself lucky I guess.

One good thing that came out of Monday’s blah-ness was, I was too bummed to go out and party, therefore I had a great deal of energy for yesterday’s show and the aftermath, and I was gonna need it.

There were a few of us hanging out at last night’s show. Mark was there, my friend Jen, David, and a guy I met at the Sigur Ros show in Austin, Juan Carlos. I had this intense conversation with Juan Carlos at an Austin bar about Radiohead and he is pretty obsessed too so having him there last night was really cool. Like when we were sitting outside the venue drinking wine before the show and I said “I predict they will open with Airbag” I could get an answer like “definitely possible. They opened with Airbag in Berkeley and Chicago.” And then of course when they DID open with Airbag I had someone to look at with that knowing look.

I know. We are freaks.

So anyway, once again I went into the venue only fifteen minutes before Radiohead went on, but this time went over to Ed’s side. I stupidly asked Mark to go get me a drink, as of course when the band went on there was no way he was going to get close to us again. Me, Juan Carlos and Jen managed to get very, very close. Not quite this close – but almost:

Jealous much? I am like, totally jealous of MYSELF right now. I am serious. I could see Ed for every single minute, and that guy is HOT.

The crowd around me at this show was great, really cool and mellow people who were totally into it. And respectful, and didn’t sing, or scream CREEP. There were a couple of obnoxious girls who pushed their way in, created some havoc and then very quickly removed themselves, but other than that it was all good. I had no desire to try to make it to the rail even though I couldn’t see as well (the above picture was probably taken by a six foot five dude, many of which were standing in the way.) I just listened and watched what I could through the forest of necks and sometimes I just looked up at the sky and thought to myself, it is really, really great to be alive, and much of that is due to my love for this band.

Here are  more pictures from the show. Many thanks to May May and Shoestar for these.

May May got this one of Jonny playing his guitar with a violin bow during Pyramid Song.

Another of May May’s photos of Thom and Jonny.

A good shot from the front by Shoestar.

The whole show was so fantastic. Like I said yesterday, all the new songs sound so sweet live. I got my Pyramid Song, I got my Like Spinning Plates (though some dude sang it next to me pretty badly, but I was in the kind of mood where that was just kind of funny.) Bones is probably my least favorite song from The Bends but when they played it last night, it was like, MY GOD. I mean, when Ed, Thom and Jonny are all RIPPING on their guitars it is just, well, beyond thrilling. Another highlight for me was Climbing up the Walls, it sounded so intense and so lush and it was hot and humid and the sky was the color of bittersweet chocolate. I’ll say it again – WOW. THESE are the moments I live for.

After the show I bought a shirt and some Stanley Donwood notecards . I am a good letter writer, and I need to write some letters in those puppies. But first I need someone to write to. I remember after the Radiohead show at the Greek in L.A. in 2000 I wrote someone a four-page letter about it. Guess I have my blog now, where I can at least edit myself.

After the show we all went to Joe’s Crab Shack and had a drink and where Mark tried to piss everyone off by saying it wasn’t that great of a show (“go kick that guys ASS” I jokingly told him when some youngster with a bad sixties hairdo gave him shit at the bar for it) and then just me, David and Juan Carlos went to, of all places, Dick’s Last Resort, a place I would have NEVER gone to if it hadn’t been the only place serving food at midnight on a Tuesday night. Still, nachos and a bottle of cheap Merlot seemed to round off the night nicely.

And I still have one more show. Last night I was an exceptional person: someone with an L.A. ticket. Fucking A. I am still waiting for Black Star and The Tourist. We shall see.

You can listen to both shows, for now anyway, HERE.

Well. I almost held off on writing about last night’s Radiohead show to do one post about both shows. But I don’t think I can do that. I think I have to write about this one now, and then put it behind me, and move on.

I wish I could say it was the best night ever, but I can’t. I can say that Radiohead put on an insanely great show, but I just couldn’t let myself go. Not the way I wanted to. It makes me really sad that I was, well, really sad at last night’s show. It’s so funny, here I am thinking “oh please don’t let me break an ankle or crash my car before the Radiohead shows” and instead this other kind of sadness comes.

I was a little stressed too. My ticket did not arrive in my hands until fifteen minutes until the band went on, which was uber-stressful in itself. The few hours waiting outside by the venue were pretty fun. Had a couple of drinks at Joe’s Crab Shack and then some wine outside. There were lots and lots of people in line, and when they opened the gates people were RUNNING in to get a good spot. Well, I entered the venue ten minutes before the show started and weasled my way up to – I kid you not – very close to the amps on Jonny’s side of the stage. I had a pretty good view of Thom, Ed and sometimes Jonny. The rail was super close and so over the first ten songs or so I just took every opportunity to get over there and finally, I WAS ON THE FUCKING RAIL. At a RADIOHEAD show. This is the closest I have ever been to the band. It should have been, like, the best night ever. Thankfully, once I got to the rail, the other people on the rail were really cool, but sadly, there was some mountainous chick next to me who thought herself an opera star and sang the lyrics to every song she knew. So the new songs the band played last night were the best for me, because I didn’t have to listen to her off-key screaming. To make it worse she kept screaming “CREEP, CREEP” at the top of her lungs. Homegirl, I hate to break it to you but the chances of them playing Creep are extremely slim, so shutthefuckup. On our side, there wasn’t much pushing but in the middle it was pretty tight and I saw quite a few girls being pulled out and literally carried out by security. And there were some youngsters behind me who kept talking. In a perfect world I could have put all of this out of my mind but I couldn’t and this is very disappointing. It is my fault, for getting myself so in a frenzy about these shows.

As for the show itself, it was very good and people were very into it. I am enthralled with some of the new stuff. I have been listening to it on the internet, but all those new songs just sounded so awesome live. I love Down is the New Up and Videotape and the song 4 Minute Warning, played during the second encore with the band all around Thom at the piano… well that was really special. Thank god mountain woman (and most of the audience) didn’t know any of the lyrics to the new songs. It’s one thing to sing along to Karma Police but come on… every freakin’ song? Argh.

They played How to Disappear Completely, Lucky, and Just. Now I am praying they play them again on Friday… once was not enough.

So tonight I am going to take a deep breath and see the show from a different angle. I got the up close thing out of my system last night and would like to see the entire stage this time. Also, if motherfuckers be talking or singing I am going to move somewhere else.

Onward.

I’m so excited I can barely sit still. I tried to sleep in, but I couldn’t. This week is just going to be too awesome. My stomach is all crazy, I am going to try hard to take care of myself, but it is going to be really, really hard.

David called me last night from the Greek Theatre in Berkeley, so I got to hear one song from Radiohead’s show. It was really hard to hear, basically it sounded like the ocean, with a bit of Thom Yorke’s vocals here and there. And clapping. I think, but I can’t be sure, that it was the new song “15 Step.”

New songs! Holy shit, by the end of next week I am going to know them REALLY WELL.

Anyhow last night’s set list was pretty freaking awesome. “Pyramid Song” followed by “Like Spinning Plates” would be the end of me. I would basically fall down and die from happiness right there. So it’s probably good that I wasn’t at last night’s show. My brother Jay is going tonight, so I hope he is not bummed that he is not going to hear these two songs… I remember driving from San Francisco to my grandma’s house near Temecula a few years ago listening to I Might Be Wrong Live Recordings over, and over, and over. Just knowing that Jay will be there tonight, and David, makes me feel better that I will not. When Radiohead was here in 2003, Jay called me from the show at the Shoreline Ampitheater and I listened to the ENTIRE SHOW through his cell phone. But tonight, I will be at the Pink Martini show, so that ain’t gonna happen again. At least not on this tour.

So. Once again it is Ocean Beach Street Fair day. So to celebrate this fact, I am going to quote some dude’s review of The Vine on the Beer Advocate website:

“Ocean Beach is a funky part of town — sandwiched by the Pacific Ocean to the West, Mission and Pacific Beach to the North (across the San Diego river channel), and Point Loma to the South and (sorta) East. Each of those communities have their own vibes, but none can even get close to what Ocean Beach has going on. Mix three parts Haight Ashbury, three parts Surfer Bum; two parts Psycho Neo-Eco-Vegan, two parts drug-manufacturing Hells Angel, one part Int’l Backpacker, one part homeless Bum, one part Goth Chick, one part Antique Dealer, and one part Yuppie, mix `em all together, and put the mix into a 7-11 Big Gulp cup you found in the trash can, and you start to get the idea of what Ocean Beach has going on.”

That is the perfect way to put it, dude. And the OB Street Fair is: two parts A.M. drinking, one part Corn Dog, one part crappy but fun carnival ride in the parking lot where the Bank of America ATM kiosk has eighteen people waiting to use it, six hundred and fifty parts 420 (not me though, I gotta stay reasonably sober), fifteen parts happy cop, two thousand eighteen parts sunscreen applying just a little too late, six parts OK bands, two parts really good bands, sixteen parts afternoon drinking, eight thousand two hundred fifty three parts future hangover.

Thankfully (I think) I am leaving early this year. My brother works at Humprey’s, where Pink Martini is playing tonight. So I’ll get out of major harms way at about five, and hang out over there until it’s time for the show. I have not heard from Timothy, the wine bar guy I met in Portland, but he has my number and also knows where I am sitting, so you never know…

I am getting heart palpitations from all of this. It’s kind of crazy. Could there be a more perfect week ahead?

Tomorrow is the longest day of the year, and Radiohead is coming.

I about died when I saw the lighting in this video from last night’s Chicago show. It’s AWESOME. I PRACTICALLY LEVITATE every time I see it.

The calm before the storm… fog, no hangovers, just chilling and getting ready for what is going to be an unbelievable week, starting Saturday. The OB Street fair, then Pink Martini… then RADIOHEAD. Only three of the four SoCal shows, unless something crazy happens.

I can’t wait.

Interesting night last night, all the way around. Very, very interesting. Fun, too. Let me say right here and now that on Tuesday I had a little email flurry with Janet Zinn after she got home from the Radiohead show at Madison Square Garden. In one of these emails she wrote that she was “practically levitating” during Idioteque. Practically levitating! Henceforth, you will be seeing this quite often, and always in caps. At least for the next few weeks.

Anyhow, last night me and Mark went to House of Blues to see The Walkmen. I wish beyond belief that I could copy the picture on the home page of their website where they are all in the Western garb, but alas, I cannot. I love that picture and I recommend you click on that website just to see it. If it is true that rock stars are cool (which, I have found, is generally a hit and miss theory) then The Walkmen prove it (maybe) in that photo. I am totally fascinated with it for some bizarre reason, to the point of considering bean and noodle portraits.

It’s a good thing that last night’s show started late, because we decided to take the bus downtown, since it a) stops half a block from my house, b) also stops a half a block from House of Blues, c) takes only half an hour and d) is only $2.00 to ride, instead of $25.00 for a cab. So it all sounds good, only the friggen bus never came. Well, it eventually came, but instead of getting downtown at 8:20, we got there at 9:30. NINE-THIRTY. We waited for the bus for an hour and ten minutes! I felt like I was back in San Francisco, waiting for the 22 Fillmore to arrive. Once we got on the bus, I was shocked at how skankified it was. I sort of thought, it being a San Diego bus, it would be kind of nice. Not! It was skanky. Also, there was a weird kid who kept playing with his veins and also, looking generally out-of-his-mind. Eventually the weird kid moved to the back of the bus where he proceeded to ask two guys back there if they were talking about Jesus Christ. (They were.) So then Heroin Boy says something like “Don’t look for heaven in the water, because the fishes got there first. And don’t look for heaven in the air, because there are birds already there. You have to look for heaven in yourself.” Having the added bonus of some heavy duty psychedelics or opiates may or may not help in this quest, but whatever. I nodded my head in agreement and Mark, in the seat in front of me, looked at me and said “you are fucking crazy.” To me, not Heroin Boy. Hey, whatever it takes to get through a bus ride, bring it on.

So finally we got downtown (AT NINE-THIRTY) and since The Walkmen weren’t going on until 11:15 we went into the bar at House of Blues and had a drink and some really lame food (I hate the food at that place, I don’t know why I pay for that crap) then went into the club where the second act was playing. I went up to the front and strategically placed myself in a spot where once the opener was done, I would be able to squeeze myself right on the rail. Which I did, with no problem, and thank god because that was one of the worst crowds I’ve ever witnessed at a show. So it is good that I did not have to look at them. I just got the impression that they were all a bunch of dickheads and losers, and usually my instincts are right. Except for – I kid you not – HEROIN BOY from the bus, who was right up in front, looking so out of his mind that I made Mark go talk to him to make sure he was OK. Heroin Boy was the coolest guy there. Pretty crazy.

So, The Walkmen. (PLEASE look at that picture.) It was a good show. I think I have been spoiled by my three previous shows at House of Blues, which were all so overwhelmingly stellar that I automatically think EVERY show there is going to be that good, which of course, it could never be. I will say, I am fascinated by the band, who have a pretty unique sound and also, write some songs that I think about all night (as in, are so catchy I can’t stop thinking about them.) I was sort of intrigued going in by Tom Breihan’s assertion that The Walkmen’s singer Hamilton Leithauser looks (bullshit) like (lies) Britt (what planet is this guy living on) Daniel (total fucking bullshit.) Hamilton Leithauser does NOT look like Britt Daniel, and I don’t think Britt Daniel would EVER wear a preppy Izod shirt like Leithauser was last night. I guess it is possible that Britt once wore Izod shirts, like in 1987 or whenever but he doesn’t wear them now. I would be willing to bet a lot of money. Then there is the hair, face and body.

Yeah, as soon as I saw that Hamilton Leithauser didn’t look like Britt Daniel he already had two and a half strikes against him. Just kidding. Maybe.

Really, though, they were pretty great and really and truly it made for fascinating watching. The drummer, a smallish dude, was so energetic I thought he would drum his way to the core of the earth. He was PRACTICALLY LEVITATING. At one point some chick screamed “TELL THE DRUMMER TO SIT DOWN” and it’s true, he really seemed to be sort of flying above his kit banging on his drums. The bass player and the keyboardist traded off every other song (so who IS the bass player, really? and who IS the keyboardist? hmmm…) and the one, bearded bass player was playing his bass so furiously I thought he was going to keel over and crash into the drums. So that guy and the drummer were energetic enough to keep the whole thing going, and they actually broke a sweat which the other three dudes (hello – Britt SWEATS and it is HOT) never seemed to do.

It could be the relentless tour schedule this band is on that makes them sort of lackluster and sullen, or maybe that is the way they are generally. By the end, they did start smiling a little, especially the guitar player, but for the most part they looked at each other and not much else. They are all really cute and it sounded good and there were moment – but just moments – of brilliance. It was a cool show, even with the lack of interaction.

So then it was over at only 12:30 so me and Mark went to Tony’s Bar where we ran into my brother Tom. This is where my brother uttered the following classic line: “What you have to understand about us Essas is, we are ALWAYS right and if you say something stupid, you’ll get a slap.” At which point both of us started laughing uncontrollably. GOD I love my brother.

And on that note, take care what you say. Heh.

This evening I have been catching up on some Spoon action. For some reason, I didn’t check out the new video of The Two Sides of Monsieur Valentine until today. Why? I have been playing Spoon a bit here and there but lets face it, it’s all about Radiohead right now, and the Walkmen who I am seeing Friday at House of Blues.

Check this out. There is a HUGE and MAJOR surprise coming.

So I am watching it, and at first I am like, hey, that guy in the suit looks like Johnny Kat, this dude I know from San Francisco. So then I watch the guy walk into his house and I am like, wow, that kind of looks like Johnny Kat’s house. Then he started dressing in drag and I am like “HOLY FUCK, THAT IS JOHNNY KAT!”

First, I walk into a wine bar and the owner is in Pink Martini. Now, someone I have partied with on numerous occasions is IN A FUCKING SPOON VIDEO. The end of the video is filmed at Trannyshack, so I bet there are others I know in there. I think I saw Heklina, the hostess of Trannyshack, but the images are a little too quick and spotty for me to be sure.

Sorry about all the yelling but I am a little excited right now. Laurie Bushman, did you know about this, and if so did you tell me when I was drunk or something? ‘Cause I way don’t remember if you did.

Man, this is too cool. I wonder if Johnny Kat knows about my Britt Daniel bean and noodle picture that our mutual friend Jason made for me. I wonder if he GOT TO MEET BRITT DANIEL. Yo, Johnny, HOOK A SISTER UP. I want to be in the SEQUEL.

Well, I was all ready to write about Christian Rock tonight but heck, I am just way too excited for that. Calm down, calm down…

A few years ago, I had an intense love affair with a guy on the East Coast. It was a strange relationship in the end, and an unhappy one, but in the beginning, it was good, just because it was extremely intense. I flew a few times to meet him, always flying into New Jersey. I’ve flown a lot and I sometimes get into the weird beauty of it, especially when going to a romantic place. Sex and the Jersey shore in October. Yeah.

So on these few fligths to the East Coast, I had this sort of ritual to listen to OK Computer right before we landed. Only, sometimes we circled around after the CD ended. So I would just rewind back and listen to The Tourist, the last song on OK Computer, over and over until it the attendant came over and forced me to turn it off. Those circles in flight, accompanied by that song, will live with me forever. If that makes any sense. Flying, and listening to this:

Sometimes I get overcharged
That’s when you see sparks
You ask me where the hell I’m going
At a thousand feet per second

The Tourist is one of the only songs written by Jonny Greenwood, and it has not been played much live. Until this tour. Lots of talk on the message boards about “when will I hear The Tourist?”

So I was beyond thrilled today when I found that Bradley has, once again, a fantastic show for us all to enjoy. And the final encore is The Tourist. SWEET. God I love that song, even if that relationship went nowhere. It’s weird how a song can totally bring you back to one time, one place in the history of your life.

Bradley didn’t have a ticket, but one of his readers sold him one. The crowd around him sounds really lame. The crowd around me better not talk during the show, or I am gonna smack em. Or even kill ’em. I mean, they sound AWFUL. It’s scaring me.

Three weeks to go… the Boston set list is awesome. Planet Telex? Just? Like Spinning Plates? Nude? I might pass out from happiness. Seriously.

Thanks Bradley, you have made my day, month and year a better place to live.

Perfect days happen. Yesterday was one of them.

Too bad that on Friday, Little Miss Airhead at the Doubletree Hotel didn’t tell me that all needed was to get back on the light-rail for a couple more stops to get to what I now realize is the real – and totally hip – Portland. She wasn’t very with it, because she never even checked me in, as I found out today. To them I was a ghost with a working key. I could have ordered Veuve Clicquot from room service and walked right out the door. Oh well. I’m not really that kind of person so it doesn’t make much sense to ruminate on what I could have done.

Yesterday morning, when I was writing in the hotel business center, there was another dude in there with a bunch of tattoos. We both sort of stuck out in Corporateland Hotel as not exactly corporate types so we started talking. Turns out he is in a band (actually I think he IS the band) called The Violet Burning. He gave me a CD and his phone number and told me to call him after the Eels show, plus he told me some cool areas to check out. I took this interaction as an excellent sign.

From there, I just wandered. I have visited Portland once, but I was working, then I got the flu there, so it wasn’t altogether successful as a pleasure journey; still, I remember the Saturday Market there, because I bought a bean bag lizard that sits on the dashboard of my VW Bug. That market is COOL. They have food stalls there from all over the globe – Egyptian, Himilayan, all kinds of weird shit. I ate a killer taco al pastor and watched a steel drum band. Then I walked some more, stopped in a pub for a drink, then went to an oyster bar and had oyster shooters and clams. It was hot and humid, and I never did make it to the carnival, because I wanted to take a nap before the Eels show.

This is where the day left Pretty Awesome and entered Totally Killer. I knew I wanted to go to a wine bar, but I didn’t know where one was, so I looked in the phone book and found a place called Vino Paradiso that was not too far from the venue. So I headed there. There was some festival of lights parade last night so the streets were lined with people waiting. Portland is a really cool city to walk in. I was getting pretty enamored at this point.

So, made it to Vino Paradiso where I ordered up a Pinot flight and a salad of Arugula and Seared Duck. There was a couple next to me that just moved to Portland from San Jose, California. In fact MANY of the people I met were transplantees from California. And they all love it there. So we talked and drank and I ate my salad (which was awesome.) Then Timothy, the owner, comes over and started talking to me. By now it was well known that I had come to Portland to see a show, so the owner told me he was in a band.

“Which band?” I asked him.
“Pink Martini,” he said.

HOLY FUCK. HOLY FUCKING FUCK. My jaw dropped and I swear, I almost fell off my barstool. “DUDE.” I said. “DO YOU REALIZE I AM LIKE, YOUR BIGGEST FAN IN THE ENTIRE UNIVERSE????”

I then proceeded to tell him everything about everything, including my blog entries on Pink Martini and China Forbes. He told me that someone had printed them out and they all read them! PINK MARTINI READ MY BLOG!

Well, after that I was totally convinced that this journey was all very, very good and that the music gods were indeed smiling down on me. I had not only found a killer wine bar, I had found one owned by one of the dudes in one of my favorite bands! I am seeing the band in three weeks, and I told Timothy that if he gets me backstage I will bring some great wines to drink. “Not too many of them drink wine,” he said. “That’s OK!” I said. Please oh please oh please….

I left there almost reluctantly, but with great anticipation to see if Mark Oliver Everett, otherwise know as E, would succeed in totally blowing my mind once again. This was the real reason I came to Portland, after all. I walked to Roseland, the venue, down streets filled with marching bands waiting to be in the parade. It was fairly surreal. Outside the venue, the parade was going by, marching band after marching band.

Roseland is one of those places that discriminates against us drinkers and makes us go upstairs and sit down to get a cocktail. Normally this would have totally bugged, but since I was on a mission to remain somewhat conscious, I didn’t care so much. I went up and got a drink and settled in for the opening band, Smoosh. There were two dudes next to me, and I tried in vain to tell them what they were in for. I said I would be leaving for the floor as soon as Eels came on and one of the guys said “why do you want to go down THERE?” But when Smoosh came on I could tell that THEY wanted to go “down there.” Smoosh is comprised of a twelve-year old girl drummer and a fourteen-year old girl keyboardist. I have never seen so many riveted dudes as I have seen during Smoosh. It’s kind of freaky, really. But it’s there.

Smoosh is good. But they are unformed. They don’t know how to act, talk or dance yet. In a description of Smoosh in one of the free Portland weeklies, the following: “When the army of young girls on my block hit the preteen mark, an unexplainable heaviness oozed over our neighborhood like “The Nothing” in The Neverending Story. Saturday night slumber parties became whirlpools of maniacal giggling and tears, powered by overactive imaginations, blossoming sex drives, and crushing self-doubt.” DUDE. At last I know where my real problem is – I never really matured past the age of thirteen. You are describing ME.

But I digress. Smoosh finished their set, I finished my drink, and I was on the floor as soon as Eels hit the stage.

Part of the reason I wanted to see this show again is, last weekend when I saw them I was pretty buzzed. As in, I remember it was a fantastic show, and I remember bits and pieces, but I had shit on my mind and that combined with the buzz messed me up. Last night I was fairly sober. So I remember it all. The guy with the “Security” T-shirt who stood glaring out at the crowd, but then in the course of the night proceeded to dance, do kung-fu moves, squirt whipped cream into people’s mouths (and then wipe them off with a tissue – TWISTED), play keyboards, make random announcements before songs, and at one point, take over the guitar from E while he went backstage. Security Guy was just a little tidbit that made one go “holy fuck, this show is INSANE.”

So then… it was so good I almost started crying a couple of times. E was dressed in some crazy jumpsuit with airplane goggles and longish hair sticking out from a cap with another pair of goggles, and there was a wind machine blowing on him… the effect was quite striking, and I think I am in love again. There were moments of great beauty, and moments of two guitars about to rip your head off. The girls from Smoosh were right next to me on the floor and were jumping up and down like they were on pogo sticks, because like I said they haven’t learned to dance yet. The crowd, though somewhat sparse, was appropriately enthralled and respectful. I think I love Portland.

Then, sadly, it was over. I didn’t bring my phone so I couldn’t call Michael from The Violet Burning, but I walked out into the rain and uptown to one of two bars he had said they would be at. It was a club, and definitely one where people were going to be taking drugs. I didn’t see him so I got out of there quick before I could get myself into trouble. See! Even I, Shannon Essa, can sometimes be good.

Out in the rain, I walked aimlessly trying to get a cab. Finally I got one and the driver got so lost he did not want to charge me. But I made him take money. Portland has cute cab drivers too, by the way.

This morning I dreamed about Mark Oliver Everett. He was at my house and I asked him what the scoop was with Security Guy. Then he looked at my CDs and asked me to put on the Living Blue. I was happy that all my Eels CDs were in plain view. “This band sucks,” E said. The rest of the dream involved unsuccessful sex and my grandmother, but I’d rather not elaborate.

During that show I had this image of myself crucified on an electric guitar. I can’t think of anything that makes me quite as happy. And I am glad.

Tonight is the first night of the U.S. leg of the Radiohead tour. Therefore:

All those thousands of people singing “for a minute there, I lost myself.” That shit just slays me.

I am really excited and today I impulsively (not) bought a ticket on ebay for the first show at the L.A. Greek. It was hella expensive but I DON’T CARE. It’s all I can do to strap myself down and not go to Boston and Chicago or even Canada.

I am, however, going to Portland on Saturday to see Eels again. And to drink some good Pinot and maybe eat something. I’ll try to stay out of trouble which is something I didn’t do when I saw Eels last weekend. Me, stay out of trouble. Right. It’s 1.6 miles from my hotel to the venue. How much trouble can I get in on a 1.6 mile walk? Plenty, I reckon.

June is shaping up to be Totally Killer. Maybe I’ll take a cab.

Tracy Lord: Dexter, say something.
C. K. Dexter Haven: Well, I…
Tracy Lord: Oh, I’m such an unholy mess of a girl.
C. K. Dexter Haven: Well, now, that’s not conversation.

The Philadelphia Story, 1940

She was forty-one, an age when even romantics must admit that youth is gone….

Richard Yates, Oh Joseph I’m So Tired

Do you ever wake up and feel that everyone thinks you are totally insane? I do, but they don’t because I am not. I am too sane. THAT is why I am so fucked up.

Last night I had a series of nightmares that wouldn’t stop. A tiny baby who I guess was sleeping on my chest, then he turned into a man-eating dog that swallowed people whole. Then I was on a 747 and a series of gliders attempted to crash straight down on us. And finally, my friend’s husband electrocuted himself with an electric shaver. My friend pulled the plug, and he fell on the ground, dying. I didn’t know how to save him so he died right in front of me.

There is a train of thought that says in dreams, every person is an aspect of yourself. So am I a baby, a man-eating dog, and a dying man? Am I a person who can’t save anyone?

Everyone fucks up. I just have to get past this one. But sometimes I just don’t know what to do about myself.

On another (much better) note, I got a special treat in the mail today – bootlegs of two Radiohead shows I was at – Coors Ampitheater in September 2003 and the L.A. Greek in October 2000. After the show at the Greek my life changed drastically and within months I was living in Europe. You never can tell where life is going to take you.

So as Thom Yorke sings,

Pull me out of the aircrash
Pull me out of the lake
I’m your superhero
We are standing on the edge.